The Phantom’s Little Girl
by Musicofthesoprano
Summary: Erik Destler has always wanted someone like him – but what happens when that one person shows up on his doorstep?
1. Chapter 1 (01-16 16:42:11)

_Chapter 1_

After weeks and months of stress and waiting, Erik Destler could finally find peace. Or... maybe he thought. Coiled into a ball on his new crimson velvet crushed bedsheets, he sighed. What would he ever do without her? It had been nine months, two weeks and a day ever sense he saw her. A sound so horrid to man corrupted his ears. A child crying. Right outside of his small cottage. Erik opened the door, looking up – then down to where the sound led him. It was a small baby. She looked to be fresh out of the womb. But what scared him the most was... the child's deformity. It was on the right side of her face, unlike her counterpart, Erik.

He brought the child inside and layed her down on a cluster of blankets. On her tiny stomach was a note. The note read...

 _"Dear Erik,_

 _Good day, Monsieur Destler. It is I, Christine. Somehow I must have got pregnant with this child of yours. She can't be Raouls, though. I've just been playing it off like I've been gaining weight! But anyways... I haven't named her yet. She is beautiful though. You must take care of her. Treat her like the parent you never had._

 _Sincerely,_

 _Lady de Chagny"_

That name haunted him. But... a baby girl? At his doorstep? And she concluded to be his! She definitely was. He looked at the child, all dressed in pink. Christine had her magic touch. But how could the Victome let his wife return a baby to the man that manipulated and scared her? Many questions bumbarded the mans presence.

The child started crying louder and louder. He had nothing to put her to sleep! Or to at least stop her infinite cry. How could Christine trust him with a child?

15 years later 

_Anastasia Destler._ A beauty on one side, unknown on the other. While Anastiasia's friends were getting courted, she usually sat in the back watching them nick-knack with each other.

The morning yellow peaked out of her window. What fortunate day! A new one, she had thought. She put on a pink dress, a color she usually wouldn't put on. She then would run into the livingroom with all her lively hood and would sing at the top of her small lungs for her father to wake up.

" _Good morning sweet father! I hope you had a great slumber_..." Her _sopranic_ voice danced along with her. Her father, the famous musician Erik Destler, chuckled and rubbed his blue eyes.

"I can see why you aren't getting courted now, Ana..." the man teased. She put her finger to her mouth to shush him with a grin.

"Come on Father! I have ballet practice in an hour! And then at 5 I have voice lessons!" She moaned like a typical teenager.

"Alright, alright... I guess so. Give me about 10 minutes." He ruffled her curly chestnut locks and soon ran to his private restroom.

Ana ran to her room, putting on some powder to make her pale complection balanced. She brushed her stubborn curls and pulled up her ballet dress. Then she put on her porcelain white mask... one she loved. It concealed her true flaw.

Minutes later, the two rushed out to the new Opera Populaire. Erik was widely known and honored... though he tricked them all that he was a different person. He used to be the cursed Phantom. But ever since his baby girl arrived to his door, _**Erik was a changed man**_. They greeted him with respect and same with his daughter. He still regretted the three deaths that had been shedded with his own hands.

The masked man watched as his daughter ran to her friends – something he wished he had in his teenage years. Someone to talk to. Someone other then _himself_.

"Monsieur Destler!" Meg Giry, a old friend smiled.

"Meg! You don't look a day over 30." He grinned at his sister-like figure. She gave him a worried look.

"What is it, Giry? Why so worried?"

"Well, It's really good and bad news."

"Tell me then, Meg."

"Christine De Chagny, Raoul De Chagny and their son and daughter, Gustave and Victoria De Chagny, are coming up here. I'm so sorry Monsieur — I _would've_ warned them!" His brain was mixed with emotions, the same emotions he felt after _she_ left. Why was _she_ coming back? Would Anastasia be fit meeting her _real_ mother? All of these worries – including fatherly instincts – swam around in his head. How would he conquer this fear?


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Erik found himself in a ball of stress. He marched up to his office and scattered through the files in his messy cabinet, retracing the letter he had received 15 years earlier. He sighed; Erik had... learned to leave her. He knew he would never see her again, but alas, that was a lie. She was coming... with her children and husband. What would she do when she realized her own kin and her old lover retreated at the opera house? He realized she would have a murderous break down in agony!

Meanwhile, Anastasia was surrounded by little ballerinas. One giggled, while the others held a grin.

"What is it, young Sirens?" She asked. Anastasia called the girls 'little Sirens' because they were beautiful, had the voices of angels, and would most possibly excel in dancing.

"Are you ugly under your mask?" One girl asked. The girl was only 4 years old... she quite literally wouldn't understand Ana's struggles.

"Of course not! If i would take this off, you would stare into literal light! Now, young Siren, I would not want to blind your small glacier eyes!" Anastiasa giggled. She tried to understand she was once curious as the small girl. Little giggles swarmed her ears. She just assumed that the girls were talking about something more interesting – possibly boys, gossip or dolls. But she was incorrect. Small hands grasped the very shell of which concealed her deformity, and whisked it off! She put a hand on her face, grabbing her mask back.

"Young Sirens! I am much disappointed in you all! I will be telling Madame Giry about this this instant!" She huffed, her face flash of red.

After she told Meg, the girl walked into her fathers office with shame. He could tell what happened, just by the look on her frail face.

"Ana – I'm so so sorry... who did this to you?" Erik asked in anger.

"Father, there's no one to hurt. But the little ballerinas definitely to have a mind unlike their mothers and fathers." The Ballerina stated, sitting down in one of her fathers chairs.

"So, besides that – did you hear anything? Any gossip about the world known Soprano, Christine Daae?" He asked in hesitation. Anastasia raised her eyebrows.

"No– father, why?" She asked.

"Well... I have some explaining to do about her, child." Eriks heart started racing. Anastasia nodded, telling him to carry on.

"Well... I've known her ever since she was almost about 10... and I taught her music. I sang with her. But she never knew it was me. She thought it was the spirit of her dead father.. then, in 1881, I remember telling her who I really was... and I was living in the Opera cellars. Soon... I realized she was an obsession for me. My god, I thought it was love... but it was really just a dangerous form of desire.. and I... did things I wasn't suppose to. But she was in love with the Vitcome de Chagny... and I made her choose. She choose to love the Vitcome.. and after that, she met with me one last time because she thought she was about to divorce the Vitcome. And we did something so dumb, so stupid. And then I remember... you showing up on my doorstep. And... you know how I've never told you who your real mother was? Well, it's her... Christine De Chagny." Erik sighed. The story on Anastasia's face was not a magnificent one.

"Father – you told me I descended from the heavens! That an angel delivered me to you!" She huffed.

"Yes – and I wasn't lying." Erik stated, rubbing his face. Anastasia's expression was priceless.

"So you're – the Phantom of the Opera?" She began to become breathless.

"Yes, sweet child. I was. Yes – I did shed the lives of 3 men.

But they were out to get me. I had to do what I had to do, sweet child." He signed. Erik could already see the look on his daughters face.

20 minutes later...

The De Chagny's started to come off their carriage and into the light. It had been 15 years. Just 15 years after their descendent from the Paris Opera house. Christine was greeted with bows and smiles, while the rest of the family went on a tour.

"Mrs. De Chagny!" Someone called out. Christine looked to her side to find a fairly old redheads woman stood before her.

"Yes, Madame?" The Soprano greeted her.

"Monsieur Destler wants you in his office... about.. now!" The woman smiled. She knew exactly where the office was... but who was 'Monsieur Destler'? Likely just an old man she knew. When she got to the door, she knocked.

"Come in, Daae." A very familiar voice responded. She opened the door to find a man... it was Erik. The very man she remembered. And beside his desk was a young girl with a mask on the left side of her face. Maybe... it couldn't be. She sat down, taking off her hat. The man sat very strictly in his chair and he... demanded business. She had no memory of him.

"Monsieur Destler... What is this meeting about?"

"I have a few things in mind. But first... I very much want to meet someone." Christine looked up at the man. This girl? Who was she?

"Christine... Anastasia... Christine, this is your daughter, Anastasia." He kindly smiled. Then she _remembered_. It was _him_. The man _she_ had got away from. He was _back_.


End file.
